


Say It With Your Hands

by spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's sort of an automatic reaction; when people are nice to Harry he wants to thank them, and an easy way to say thank you is by going down on them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It With Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Ramona wanted me to write him Nick/Harry/James, from the night James held Harry's hand and definitely made sure he got back home to Nick safely. So I did, because I do everything Ramona tells me to do. 
> 
> One character is inebriated at the story's beginning, as a warning, so if you think that might trigger you, this is not a story you should read!

Harry is really, really drunk. He's allowed to be, though, he's over the age of drinking and everything, but he's still really drunk. He knows that much. Maybe if you can recognize that you're really drunk, you're not actually drunk. Not drunk enough, anyway.

He wants more drunk. He wants all of the drunk, to collect it like Pokémon. He's grabbed, though, before he can find any more drunk, which is a bummer.

"Hazza!" James, that's James. James Corden, and he's a mate, and Harry's life is really weird when James Corden is a mate who's holding Harry up because he's drunk. "Hey, think you've probably had enough, love."

"Haven't," protests Harry in a mumble, but he likes James, so he lets him pull him out of the crowd. "More drinkies."

"No more drinkies for you." James keeps hold on his hand, and Harry likes that, too. He likes when people touch him, and sometimes that gets him in trouble but a lot of the time it just gets him laid, so he thinks it's a good thing.

There are people with cameras outside and Harry doesn't think that's as much of a good thing. He's really, really drunk, and he doesn't want to get yelled at if he does something stupid at a photographer. He doesn't like bad press and he doesn't like that it reflects on his other boys and he just wants to go home, where he can probably have more drinkies. Nick's always got drinkies, and he likes watching Harry make a fool of himself.

"Ignore them," murmurs James. He's still got Harry's hand, even though there's cameras, and Harry is seized with a fierce affection. There aren't many people who would still be holding his hand, but James is and he's helping Harry stay upright and Nick had said, before they'd gone out, Nick had said (as a joke probably) that James should make sure Harry gets home safe. Maybe it's that and it's just a continuation of the same joke, but whatever the reason, Harry's grateful. He really is having trouble staying on his feet without tripping and James is all solid and lovely and helpful.

Harry wants to blow him.

It's sort of an automatic reaction; when people are nice to Harry he wants to thank them, and an easy way to say thank you is by going down on them. 

It's not just that, though. Part of it's because James has got a scruffy beard and Nick hasn't got a scruffy beard and so it's been a long time since Harry's made out with someone who's had a scruffy beard. He remembers it being lovely, though, all prickly and soft at the same time somehow, and he wants James to make out with him. James is lovely and has a scruffy beard and he's _lovely_. Really, he's the nicest person ever, and Harry wants to put his mouth on him.

James is still holding his hand. It's been far too long since Harry's held anyone's hand in public, even if he holds Nick's sometimes while they're at home. It's nice. Everything's nice, and fuzzy, and good right now. Except Nick's not there. That's a little sad. But they're on their way to see Nick, and that's happy.

"Nick?" Harry asks plaintively, leaning against James' arm. His hand's nice and warm. "Please?"

"Yeah, we're going to hand you off to Grimmy, babe," James replies, somehow able to understand Harry's drunken mumbles. "Leave him to deal with you and your wandering hands."

Harry frowns. He doesn't recall his hands wandering, but it's certainly possible. Maybe even likely. He does like touching people.

"I want a bow tie," is what he says out loud. He's not wearing one, but James is, and bow ties are so fun. Much more fun than regular ties.

James removes his tie and offers it to Harry, because he's lovely. Harry beams at him and gives James a pleased little nuzzle to the side of his jaw to say thanks. His beard is appropriately scruffy against Harry's skin.

"Harry," is all James says in response, but that might be because they've found the car and have to get inside before anybody with a camera does. Sometimes that can happen. It's not always terrible. Sometimes they're really nice photographers, but another time one of them spat on Louis so now they don't like them coming inside as much.

"James," Harry says back, and then he hugs James, resting against his shoulder. He's not very tired but his eyes sort of are, so he closes them and sighs. "Thank you."

"Wasn't using it, was I? No point to a bow tie other than to look a bit like a twat," James responds. His arm is curled around Harry's shoulders now. Harry feels very protected and warm and drunk and liked. He likes when people like him.

"Didn't mean that," Harry mumbles. "Meant. Thanks, f'r tonight. Being. Solid."

"Thanks for being solid," James repeats. He rubs Harry's side, under his jacket but over his shirt. Harry wishes he wasn't wearing a shirt. Or trousers. Or anything, really. Clothes are unnecessary most of the time, and especially when Harry's drunk. "No problem, mate."

James has really nice hands. James has really nice everything, to be fair. Maybe he'd let Harry blow him. Maybe Nick could be there, too.

"Hafta talk to Nick," Harry mutters, fingers scrambling for his phone in these godforsaken jeans. He's really glad that he discovered skinny jeans because he does like how he looks in them but they're also the worst invention in the world for phone storage. When he finally has his phone out he opens up a new message to Nick (or, more accurately, to '<3Nikc<3Grmissshaw<3>' because Harry is an affectionate drunk and a sentimental sober person).

"This I've got to see," James laughs. "If you can manage one coherent text message I'll give you three million pounds."

"Prepare to eat my. Dick," Harry grumbles. That doesn't sound like the right phrase, but he's got one thing on his mind right now.

' _Hye ncic can I suhvk jabe djbic pls_ ' he types, and triumphantly shows James. Granted, it's giving the whole thing away, but James doesn't seem to be taken aback by Harry's cunning plan.

"Yeah, you're right. You're a stunning example of sobriety," James says. He's probably being sarcastic. He's always doing that. He's lucky Harry wants to suck him off or he'd be very cross.

"Yes," Harry mutters, sending the message. He sends another one that says ' _KOVE U!!!_ ' which doesn't look right, either, but oh well. Nick will know what he means.

For now, Harry just burrows into James' side. James is wearing a really lovely jumper that's soft and warm and cozy. Harry half-wants to tuck himself up inside of it like he and James are a two-headed monster. It'd be like the ultimate hug.

"I like you," Harry whispers, like it's a secret, meant for the dark of the interior of the car and nowhere else. It's not a secret, but Harry's drunk, so he can pretend it is.

"Hey, Harry," James whispers back. Harry thinks he might be being made fun of. "I like you, too."

"Hey, James," Harry says. He can play along. Fun game, this. His phone buzzes, and Nick's text says: ' _Kiss him first harold, you're such a strumpet._ ' which is close enough to permission for Harry.

He doesn't say anything else, purely so that James will whispers, "Yes, Harry?" and then Harry tilts his head at the right angle to kiss him.

Harry was right. James' beard is very scruffy, and it's the best. Sadly, Harry doesn't get to feel it for very long, because James is urging him back with a hand in the center of his chest, and laughing. He might think Harry's not serious.

"Hey," he says sadly, wriggling closer to James. "Hey, kissing."

"Yeah, kissing, and you're drunk and all," says James. "I'm drunk and all," he admits after that, patting Harry's hip.

"But kissing!" Harry exclaims, because the best part of being drunk is kissing your friends. Harry has never been turned down before for a drunken snog and he's not about to start now. He squirms his way into a position where he can hook his leg over both of James'. "Kissing," he insists.

James sighs, but Harry's got him in his grasp, he knows it. "Oh -- fine, but you're going to regret this when you wake up tomorrow," he warns. He lets Harry kiss him again, though, so Harry wins.

The car arrives at Nick's much too soon, even if Harry does want to see him. James is a very good kisser, even if he is drunk, and Harry wants to kiss him more.

"C'min," he invites. It might be Nick's house, but he won't mind. He likes watching Harry kiss people. "Say g'night?"

"Got to deliver you, haven't I?" replies James. His eyes have gone darker and his lips look well-kissed, but maybe not well enough. "Or Grimmy might fire me from the position of 'Harry Styles' Handler'."

"He likes when I get handled," Harry says with a grin, opening the door of the car and nearly falling out of it. James steadies him, with a hand on his back, and he's still so solid. If Harry doesn't get to blow him, he will be... very sad.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that." James keeps his hand on Harry's back the whole way inside the building. Harry can't help but notice that it's very low on his back -- James' fingertips are brushing where his back curves into his arse and Harry wants so much.

Nick opens the door practically the moment James knocks and he raises his eyebrows at them. "What's the password?" he asks, leaning against the door jamb. 

"The password is 'I found this popstar in the street and I think he belongs to you'," James says, nudging Harry forward with the backs of his knuckles.

"Hi," says Harry, and he laughs because he's with Nick and that always makes him happy. Another nudge from James is enough encouragement for him to trot forward and wrap his arms around Nick's waist. "Missed you. Should've come with."

"Some of us have got jobs in the morning," says Nick, his hand rubbing Harry's back. Harry preens, sighing happily. He loves Nick-hugs. "Can't be out at all hours of the night."

"But it's alright to be in at all hours of the night?" James asks from behind them. He hasn't left yet, which is good, because if Harry gets his way, he won't be leaving at all. "Your boy has a very interesting way of saying good night."

Harry laughs again, muffled in Nick's collar. He looks up and Nick is looking down at him with a very amused look on his face. "My boy wasn't saying good night." He jerks his head a little. "Come on in, unless you've got somewhere to be?"

They share a look that Harry's not sober enough to interpret, but he hopes it means 'Harry's going to blow you now'.

"Nowhere else to be," James finally replies. He steps in and closes the door behind him. Harry wants to cheer, but he settles for nosing against Nick's neck and getting his hands up the back of Nick's shirt.

"There's a good lad," Nick whispers to him, his hand rubbing Harry's back up and down, slowly, and Harry smiles. He knows that Nick voice. That's Nick's 'You're going to do what I tell you now because I know what you want better than you do' voice. Harry loves that voice.

Really, there's not much he doesn't love about Nick. He loves that Nick likes to watch Harry get off with other people, and he loves that Nick's so tall, and he loves that Nick always smells a little like when he and Harry watch The Simpsons late at night in Nick's bed because it reminds Harry of feeling at home.

Right now he loves that Nick doesn't have any sense of shame about this, and he practically carries Harry to his room. It's good that James follows, because Harry's not so sure his seductive expression's up to par at the moment.

"Here," says Nick, shoving a glass of water in front of Harry's face. "Drink this." Where'd he get a glass of water? Harry grumbles because drinking a glass of water is so far from sucking James' dick, and he knows which one he'd prefer to be doing. Still, he knows the process: Nick has to sober him up a bit or he'll feel like he's forcing Harry into something. He's not, because Harry loves it, and it's not like James is some random he'll regret in the morning, but... Harry supposes he should be grateful that Nick's got morals of some sort.

He downs the water quickly. It's cold and refreshing when his mouth's become quite dry, and it does clear his head a little bit, lessens the fuzzy haze of _dick dick dick sucking dick james nick please dick_.

"Do this often, do you?" James asks from where he's now lounging on Nick's bed. He doesn't look accusatory, from where Harry's standing. Just curious. He grins at James happily.

"No," he says, leaning against Nick and returning his glass. "I just like you." He thinks he's slurring less. That's good.

Turning to tilt his head up to Nick, he frowns until he gets a heavy sigh and a kiss. Nick wrinkles his nose, which is uncalled for. 

"Were you drinking paint thinner? Your breath's rank, popstar." He gives Harry's bum a solid pat. "Go on, then, I know you want to."

Harry beams at him and grabs another kiss because _fuck you he was drinking vodka and Nick likes vodka_ before he drops to his knees and shuffles across the floor to James.

Who looks a little alarmed. Maybe he didn't think Harry was going to get right to it. But Harry's been waiting to give this blowjob (been waiting longer than just tonight, if he's honest) and no amount of alarm's going to stop him now.

He leans in and nuzzles James where he can't hide that he's a bit hard. _Too much trousers_ Harry thinks with a frown. There should be much less trousers. He fumbles at the fasten of James' until Nick sighs fondly and smacks his hand away so he can do it himself.

"The perils of sleeping with teenagers who can't hold their drink," Nick confides in James, leaning against his arm and helping Harry to shove James' trousers down so that Harry can get to what he really wants.

Harry huffs, because he can _so_ hold his drink, and he'll prove it with this stellar blowjob. He noses at James' cock through his pants, and that makes James breathe out harshly through his nose, so of course Harry does it again.

He feels fingers in his hair and hums. That's good, he likes that. He can hear Nick murmuring to James, "Yeah, he likes that, too, don't have to be gentle if you don't want to be," and James gives his hair a slight tug. Harry moans, mouthing at James through cotton, making it damp and hot.

It's not enough. It hasn't been very long since Harry's had a dick in his mouth, just since the morning, but he finds his mouth watering with how much he wants one there now, and ordinarily he'd tease a bit more but now he just _wants_ it. He hooks his thumbs in James' pants and pushes them down and then he's hard right in front of Harry's face and good, good, that's what he wanted.

James has got a very nice dick, one Harry's more than happy to put in his mouth, shiny pink at the head. He fits his mouth over it and hums. Yes. Yes, this is what he wants.

He looks up to measure James' enjoyment, because that really is the whole point of a good blowjob. James' mouth is a bit open and he's staring down at Harry, and Nick's watching Harry as well, his chin proper on James’ shoulder with a smile on his face. That's good, Nick watching, gives Harry a bit of a confidence boost, because Nick's always proud of him.

James' hand is still in Harry's hair, fingers winding through his curls. His hair's a little gross, to be honest, sweaty and smells like cigarettes and rum from the club, but as far as Harry knows, nobody's planning on smelling it, so that's fine.

"Fucking hell, Grimmy," mutters James. "Is he always like this?"

"Mhmm," Nick hums. Harry shivers, all the way down his spine. Nick knows he likes this, being talked about rather than to. "Loves a cock in his mouth, does Harry Styles. If you don't watch him, he's liable to get himself off while he's doing it. Hands off, Styles."

Harry whimpers, but he moves his hand from where he'd been chancing a rub at himself through his jeans. They're awfully tight and his cock is awfully hard and Nick is awfully mean for not letting him touch himself.

He's right, though. This is about James, about sucking James off and making him feel good because that's what James deserves. Instead of having his hand on himself, he wraps it around James, stroking a bit to feel the sticky dampness on his palm and get a feel for how big he is. He can take all of it, he's pretty sure, but he probably won't be able to talk or sing properly for a day or two. 

Not all the way tonight, then, but maybe another time. Maybe James will let Harry blow him again at some point. In case he doesn't, Harry's going to make this one count.

He meets James' eyes again and flicks his tongue out, gathers a bead of pre-come onto his tongue and then presses his lips to the head of James' cock to smudge more against them. He loves that taste, salty-bitter and gorgeous, and he lets himself groan before he pushes more clumsy, open-mouthed kisses down James' dick.

"Take your jacket off, love," Nick murmurs to him, and Harry's all too quick to comply, overheated. Maybe he can't touch himself but he doesn't want clothes touching him either, wants to be naked and sweaty because being clothed and sweaty is just depressing.

Nick hums, tugging at the collar of Harry's shirt. "This too."

Good, good good. Harry nearly tears buttons off in his haste to get the shirt away, and then he's topless and he sighs, pleased. He worries that might've taken James out of the moment but Nick's got him covered, hand wrapped loosely around James and letting him fuck up into Nick's fist. Harry doesn't give Nick time to move it away before he dives back in, his tongue slipsliding over cock and fingers and James' skin and Nick's skin. 

He hears Nick laugh before he pulls his hand away and then there's just James, and Harry sucks him down again. He closes his eyes to savor the taste of it, opens them as he pulls back, and looks up to see Nick and James kissing. He wonders if Nick likes James' scruff as much as Harry did. He should ask later.

There'll be time for a lot of things later, but right now there's just Harry's mouth and cock and wanting to make James feel good, wanting to make James feel the _best_. Harry can feel the tremors in James' thighs; he can hear the way his breath's coming faster, and he knows James is close to finishing. He wants it, wants to swallow it but also wants it on his face because Nick's told him he looks amazing with a load on his face and Harry really wants James to think he looks amazing.

Thankfully, Nick takes the choice out of Harry's hands, or mouth, rather. Harry can hear him, half-whispering in James' ear, only he's got to know Harry can hear him. "D'you want to finish on his face? Or in his mouth? He swallows, he loves it. Or you could finish on his stomach; it'd be a shame to waste all that skin he's put on display, wouldn't it?"

Nick reaches down and tips Harry's chin up, so Harry reluctantly gives James' cock a last lick. He sits, still because that's how Nick likes him, as James stammers out, "F-Face, on his face, can I--?"

And of course James can, because Harry likes James. James could come in his hair, even, probably, and that's _awful_ to try and wash out.

Nick gives James another few tugs and then Harry has to close his eyes, James' come painting his lips and his cheek when Nick guides his cock there, right over where Harry's flushed and hot up near his cheekbones. He keeps it away from Harry's eyes, probably still wary of going near them since just last week Harry'd had a come-in-the-eye crisis and nearly had to go to hospital.

Harry appreciates that, and he appreciates the slick feeling of come on his face, and on his lips. He licks his lips and James makes a noise like he's just been goosed. Knowing Nick, actually, he might've just been goosed.

His jeans are _so tight_ now, and they weren't loose to begin with. It's starting to hurt a little, where he's tucked away in them, his cock pressing hard against his flies because he can't wear pants with these. 

"Nick," he says, or 'whines' might be the more appropriate word, but whining's acceptable when you need to come or you're going to die. "Nick, please?"

"Up here, Styles," Nick replies, shuffling back when Harry comes scrambling up the side of the bed. James still looks sort of poleaxed but he's got the rest of his clothes off now and he's watching them, catching his breath.

Harry starts to take off his jeans but Nick stops him, smacks his hand away and arranges Harry how he wants him on the bed. Harry's leaning back against the pillows at the head of the bed with Nick hovering between his thighs. That's not terrible. Harry usually likes when Nick's between his thighs, except for then he's also usually naked and sort of -- moaning.

"I like these on you," says Nick conversationally. That's -- Harry likes these jeans, too, but he likes Nick on him _more_. Fuck the jeans. Or Nick could just fuck him, that'd be great, too.

Nick's in a mood, though, clearly, as he just settles a hand over where Harry's hard and aching and rubs, with the heel of his palm, in little circles. Harry's back arches and he pushes into Nick's hand, his toes curling in the sheets.  
"Hmm," Nick hums. "Bit eager for it, aren't you?"

"Prick," Harry grinds out, getting a hand in Nick's hair and narrowing his eyes. "Come on. I've been good."

Nick gives him a pointed look, and then he removes his hand entirely, which is _not_ what Harry wants. "Really? You've been good? You're being very whiny right now, popstar. I don't know that you deserve the dicking you clearly desire."

"I _have_ been good," Harry grumbles, but he drops his hand back to the bed and gives Nick a very hopeful look. "See? Being good."

"I don't know." Nick rubs him again, but slowly, too slowly, when Harry's dying for it. "You've been really very rude in front of our guest. Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes," answers Harry. Obviously. "Yes, please?" he tries.

Nick sighs and then swoops down, all long leanness against Harry and Harry groans when Nick kisses him, hard enough that it feels like his lips are going to be bruised for a while. He likes that, though, and Nick knows he likes it, and Nick also knows how desperate he is right now to be fucked. He's always desperate to be fucked after he sucks someone off, and Nick knows that better than most.

"Okay, trousers off," Nick says, _finally_ , leaning back so Harry can wriggle and squirm, brace himself to get them off. He loves the way they look but they're just a hassle when one's trying to get laid.

Harry moves automatically when Nick touches his hip, rolling onto his stomach. They don't always do it like this but Nick knows, as always, what Harry needs, how he wants to be on his knees again, taking Nick's cock just like he takes everything else Nick gives him.

He can hear the sounds of the drawer scraping open (privately wonders why they ever bother putting the lube away) and then the slick sounds of Nick working it over himself. He hums a little in excitement and then he hears a muffled snort of laughter from James.

"What?" Harry whines, frowning. Is James making fun of him? People do that. Not generally when he's having sex.

James grins at him, and pats his hip. "You're wiggling your bum about," he says. "Reminding me of a puppy wagging its tail, is all."

Harry can hear Nick 'coughing' hysterically, and he grumbles. How's a boy supposed to control what his arse does when he's excited? He likes when Nick fucks him. He likes it a lot.

He sticks his tongue out at James and then his mouth falls open in a gasp as Nick's cock begins pressing into him, slowly. He's still a little loose and slick from this morning, and Nick's going really, really slow, but there's still a burn and it's exactly what Harry wants. He wants to _feel_ it.

" _Oh-oh-oh-oh_ ," Harry mutters. He bites his lip until Nick is fully seated, and then lets out a whoosh of air. The hardest part is over, at least, and now Nick can actually fuck him like he's been asking to be fucked all night.

"James, can you give him a couple of fingers? He likes to suck on things, you might've noticed." Nick sounds perfectly composed and it's bullshit because Harry knows Nick well enough to know the telltale signs that he's really turned on. The way his fingers are pressing bruises into Harry's hips, the way he hasn't moved yet. Nick's good, but Harry's been sleeping with him for long enough that he won't be fooled.

(And he's blown Nick while he's on the radio enough to know that he's insanely good at keeping his voice steady. Like, supernaturally good.)

Still, he does like having something to suck on, Nick's right about that. And James' thumb pressing at his bottom lip is a welcome distraction that Harry seizes, sucking eagerly until all he can taste is James' skin, feel the whorls of his fingerprint with his tongue. That's when Nick starts to pull out, and Harry groans, and James gives him two fingers instead because he's the best.

It's easier to ignore the initial pain when Harry can just flit his tongue across James' fingertips and between his fingers and he can put on a bit of a show. He keeps his eyes on James and slides his lips up his fingers and James' other fingers rest on his jaw until Nick's got a steady rhythm going and Harry can fall into the feeling of that.

He doesn't stop sucking on James' fingers, but it does get a bit messier. Harry hasn't yet mastered being able to pay attention to what his mouth's doing while stuff's happening to his arse.

Nick just always fucks him so _well_ , like he's got a direct line to Harry's brain and he knows when Harry wants it deeper, or harder, or when he needs to back off a bit so Harry can catch his breath. Nick knows when he wants gentle and sweet (which does happen, if not often) and when Harry wants to be roughed up a bit, told what to do and when to do it. Nick just _knows_ , and Harry loves him for it.

Well, he loves Nick for a lot of things, to be fair. But that's a big one.

Harry's so hard, and he feels like he has been for years, even if it's only been, like, an hour, tops. He's been half-hard since James first kissed him in the car, and that must have been at least six years ago. Harry's sure of it.

And then Nick gets a hand around him and his grip is so perfectly perfect, just the right amount of friction for Harry to fuck into and Nick always knows what he needs.

"Come on, prettyboy, let's see you come apart," he huffs into the back of Harry's neck.

Well, that's all the permission Harry needs. He thinks he might accidentally bite down on James' fingers when he comes, but James doesn't shout, or anything, so it's probably fine, and anyway, he already got to come, it's Harry's turn now.

Nick doesn't let up, even as Harry's coming, still fucking him fast and deep, and Harry rides back against him because Nick deserves to come, too. Harry doesn't know if there's anything Nick doesn't deserve.

Finally, finally, Nick pulls out, which Harry appreciates because cleaning old come out of yourself isn't Harry's favorite way to spend a Thursday morning. Even if he does secretly love it when Nick fucks him bare and comes inside him. It always feels possessive, like Nick's staking his claim on Harry, and Harry likes that.

Nick doesn't come inside him, though, one hand on Harry's hip to keep him in place (like Harry would move away) and the other hand jerking himself off, until he spills across Harry's lower back. Sometimes, sometimes he comes right over where he's just fucked Harry, where he's open and raw and then he'll lick Harry out until he's panting and ready to go again. 

Not tonight, though. Tonight he just finishes and then flops off to the side to let Harry sag to the mattress.

Harry bites the pillow because it's there and he wants to bite _something_. He makes a quiet appreciative noise as Nick cleans up his back with a load of tissues. He's not going to feel _clean_ -clean until he takes a shower, but right now he really doesn't want to move.

"You two lead a very weird lifestyle," says James finally, his hand on Harry's head. He's playing with Harry's curls absently as he talks, which is one of Harry's favorite things in the world. He hopes James never stops. "Is this how it always is, with you?" James asks Nick. "You assign someone as his babysitter and then pay them in blowjobs?"

"Pretty much," Nick responds, throwing the wad of tissues into the bin. "Mostly Harry likes giving head and I like making Harry happy. But shh, don't tell him."

"I'm right here," Harry mumbles halfheartedly. He's only half there, really. He's not good at staying awake after he comes without continuous stimulation, and James is still rubbing his head. It's making him drowsy.

"Of course you are, young Harold," Nick says. It's very patronizing. Harry is going to withhold breakfast tomorrow until he begs for forgiveness. "Why don't you get some sleep while the grown-ups talk?"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Harry replies. He rolls his head to give Nick a glare from beneath his rumpled fringe. "Because I'm not going to again for, like. _A while_."

"Oh no, how will I ever last until you crumble tomorrow night?" says Nick dryly.

Harry would tell him it'll be _at least_ two days, but he's tired, and Nick's probably right, and it's just not worth the effort.

"Fnngh," he mutters firmly, just to show Nick he's not a pushover. 

The last thing he remembers before he falls asleep is Nick laughing and saying, "That's me told. Sweet dreams, popstar."


End file.
